


How to Stay Together

by TobiBooneTheSmallSpoone



Series: The Sorceress, The Witcher, The Bard and a Girl [8]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Armed to the Teeth, Blonde!Jaskier, Court of the Dead, Destiny, Dove of the Morning, Fate, Flight through the mountains, Multi, Prophecy, The Endless - Freeform, The Guardian Trio, Undead Danger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22526407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobiBooneTheSmallSpoone/pseuds/TobiBooneTheSmallSpoone
Summary: Secrets are shared, insults are bandied about and a plan is formed, a destination is set and fears are confirmed.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer
Series: The Sorceress, The Witcher, The Bard and a Girl [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584583
Comments: 17
Kudos: 180





	How to Stay Together

“Gerry bear, my darling Butcher-”

“Jask-”

“ _What happened to you_ ?” They asked at the same time as Jaskier swept into the bedroom, Geralt was sitting cross-legged on the bed with Ciri playing a hand of Gwent, there were several pieces of paper about with armor and weapon designs and Geralt’s copy of _Curses and the Cursed_ flipped open on a page about werewolves.

Jaskier grimaced and pulled his bonnet lower, “Er, you first.”

“Werewolves on the road.” Geralt set his card hand aside as Ciri stared wide-eyed and her finger lifted to point at Jaskier’s now-blonde hair peeking out from under the hat and his bleached eyebrows.

“Werewo- ? Good lord!” Jaskier swore and sat down on the bed, “What happened? I want details.”

“Not much to it.” Geralt frowned at Ciri whose face was turning red with the effort of keeping her mouth shut.

“Not much to it? _Not much to it?_ Are you _mad_ or just ill? You, a Witcher, are laid up with bandages and new scars; yes my love I will want to, er, _inspect_ those later, but here’s our Ciri untouched- . . . er, Ciri, _are_ you alright? You’re starting to turn purple.”

They looked at Ciri who suddenly exploded out a laugh and fell over onto her back on the bed, roaring with laughter and pointing at Jaskier, “Y-Y-You look like a-a-a-”

Jaskier’s ears reddened scarlet, “Like a what, young lady? And bear in mind I’m writing your entire history so all will know all the embarrassing little things you do. That time I caught you with a finger wedged up your nose comes readily to mind, you were ‘just getting an itch’, I believe? Do brains oft itch? Mine doesn’t.”

Ciri recovered, but she was still giggling, glancing at Geralt who was doing his best to keep straight faces at the disgruntled troubadour, “You look like a real dandelion now!”

“Well!” Jaskier huffed, clenching his fists at his sides, “So very glad to see all of you horrid people again! You know, I’ll bet Lord Yurgin would gladly hire me full-time, at least then I’d be around people who _appreciate_ me!”

“No!” Ciri yelped and scrambled to launch herself at his leg, wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly, “You can’t go! Who’ll sing to me? Yen doesn’t like singing and Geralt sounds like a choking toad!”

“Hey!” Geralt snapped, a bit wounded even if it was true.

“Oh I don’t know,” Jaskier turned his nose up and crossed his arms, “Perhaps I’m under a spell and I’ll slowly turn into a flower and wither away? Then won’t you feel horrible?”

“Dandelions are _weeds_.” Geralt muttered, shifting to the edge of the bed.

Ciri shook her head, holding on tighter, “No, Jask, don’t go! You’re the most fetching dandelion if there ever was one!”

“Hmph, too right.” Jaskier nodded then reached down to lift Ciri into a hug, looking at Geralt, “Well, I can see that I can’t leave you with anyone, my clever bodkin, you keep saving the day on your own. Goodness, we should just get her to take contracts out and we’ll stay at home where it’s safe!”

“Jask.” Geralt said, cocking an eyebrow, he held out an arm.

Jaskier smirked and set Ciri down, moving to sit next to Geralt, sliding a hand over to Geralt’s opposite hip, he breathed in slowly and smiled, “I missed you, my sweet Witcher.”

“Hmm.” Geralt closed his eyes and ran his fingers through the now-blonde locks, “it . . . It is rather pretty, Jaskier.”

“ . . . hmm.” Jaskier grunted as Ciri crawled onto the bed behind him and leaned on him, her arms wrapping around his neck, “Yes, m’lady, can I help you?”

“I want to hear about the party! And why your hair is this colour!” Ciri said insistently, wiggling her head between theirs and smiling.

“Only if you tell me the epic tale of the werewolves on the road!” Jaskier stood up, adjusting Ciri on his back, “Geralt is _terrible_ about details!”

Geralt got to his feet, shifting the book and cards off the bed, “Where’s Yen?”

“Hm?” Jaskier turned, shifting his arms under Ciri’s legs, “Oh, she said something about the town’s wall. Haven’t the foggiest as to what she meant and she said you were injured on the way home so I had to come up and make sure you were intact.”

Geralt frowned, “Hmm. Oh, Jaskier, I seemed to have misplaced a shirt, you didn’t happen to see it at the castle, did you?”

Jaskier’s ears reddened and he promptly ignored the question.

* * *

Yennefer’s boots trudged through the snow to the far end of the village, the back was a dense forest at the mouth of a mountain valley so defending it from trolls, ogres, panthers, wolves and other creatures wasn’t difficult. On either side of the valley were set up giant piles of rocks that could be caused to avalanche and block the way with the turn of a winch. She frowned and squinted up at the sky, human-made defenses were not what she was checking, Yennefer turned abruptly and headed toward the woods, cursing under her breath at the cold and muttering spells to keep her feet warm. She walked into the forest and looked around, her eyes falling on a stand of aspen, thin and willowy in the wind, their pale bark out of place amongst dark conifers. In fact, by all rights, the soil should have been too dry and acidic with needles for an aspen to thrive until one considered that these were the focus of the magic-weaver, her violet eyes fixed on them.

The circle of trees were arranged in a small ring, there was no snow in the ring despite the wind whistling between the trees. Once in the ring, a soft hum could be heard like a muffled cicada, it was a thrum of magic as in the center of the ring was a flat stone with a few marks chiseled into the rough surface. This was what the sorceress was looking for.

Yennefer stared at the stone and squatted down, gathering her cloak around her lest it trail on the dirt. She brushed the stone off with her gloved hand and frowned, there was nothing wrong with the charm, it was still strong, the spell hadn’t faded, and she’d walked the entire perimeter of the village along the barrier’s edge and hadn’t found any sign of the shield weakening . . . “Then what the hell is happening?” There was no answer from the forest, but Yennefer could feel something watching her, she could sense some kind of magic though a bit twisted and dark, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She slowly stood and turned around, her eyes scanning the darkening forest until her eyes fell on something just beyond the line of clarity. 

It was a ball of smoke or shadow, dark and swirling as it hovered at about shoulder height, and in the center of it was a skull. A human skull that had no lower jaw and still had rotten flesh clinging here and there to it but thankfully no eyes, tongue or nose. It bobbed in the air, ducking behind a tree then peeking out then back behind the tree, it repeated this process a few times then slid out into view.

Yennefer wrinkled her nose in disgust at the grotesque spectre or whatever it was, “If your just going to creep about and leer at me, you’re wasting your time. You have a few seconds before I blast you out of the air, am I clear?”

It didn’t move, swaying in place slightly for a few moments, a piece of filth sloughed off of the skull and fell to the snow. The spectre bobbed forward slightly then started to retreat slightly.

“That’s what I tho- . . . oh dear . . . “ Yennefer took a step back as the skull turned back toward her but now more were sliding out from behind trees until there were dozens of shadowy, bobbing skulls in various states of decay.

None of them spoke but all of them advanced a little, empty eye sockets glaring at her.

The sorceress’s fingers twitched and her eyes narrowed, “Fuck . . . “

* * *

Geralt ran his fingers over the new combat gloves Lord Yurgin had gifted him, they were finely crafted with long silver spikes on the forearm and heavy studs over the knuckles with thick cotton padding so he wouldn’t break his hand on a punch. He smiled in appreciation of the present and glanced over to where Ciri was staring wide-eyed at her gift from Lady Moira and he cleared his throat, “We’ll have to send word to them somehow, eh, Ciri?”

Ciri nodded, her eyes still wide as she pulled a bastard sword out of the parcel, the blade was silver with a razor-sharp edge, twin fullers snaked down to the hilt’s guard that was tightly bound in a dark leather and a delicate braid of silver wire that crossed itself twice. The grip was bound in the same dark leather but at the pommel and guard was a heavy band of copper and iron braid, the pommel was a flat disc of iron with a two inch spike coming off the top. Along with the sword was a blackwood scabbard with silver point-guard, a band halfway up with an iron ring dangling from it then at the top with eagles tooled into the metal, and a broad belt dyed a dark blue with a silver buckle, “ . . . oh my gods, she got me a fucking _sword_. . . “

Geralt was opening his mouth to berate her language and Jaskier was throwing his head back to laugh when suddenly the door burst open in a gust of snow and wind and Yennefer shot inside, slamming the door behind her. Her hair was wild about her head and her chest rose and fell rapidly, “So,” She said softly, “There’s not-so-good news and bad.”

* * *

“Didja see that? Didja, on the edge o’ town? ‘M tellin’ ya i’s all bad, all ‘round!” Jebbson snapped, slamming his fist into the bar, “That wild woman shootin’ off spells an’ drawin’ in wraiths an’ the undead with her charms! Ya saw it, didn’ ya, Argus? Fletch? Wot ‘bout you, Terrans? There, see? We saw it with our own eyes!”

An elderly man with a clean beard and a large belly frowned, his eyes narrowing, “We’ve had nothing but peace since that lot got here, not so much as a wolf has been seen in an alley in nigh on two years! Are you telling me that _now_ you want to run them out of town?”

“Don’ give me tha’ tripe, Mr. Hurdon!” Jebbson snarled nastily, “We all know why ya like that witch s’much, same as any o’ the others that go ta her fer every stubbed toe! I’ve experienced wot they’re c’pable o’!” He stood up and started to walk back and forth, making eye contact with the gathered, “Ya saw, didn’ ya, Argus, me ol’ mate, how that big brute beat me when I ran his little bitch off m’land, eh? Ain’ it m’right ta say who can an’ can’ be on m’property? Eh, Hurdon, yer a man o’ the law now, ain’ that m’right?”

Hurdon, despite the insult earlier, huffed and nodded, “It is well within your right to-”

“There then!” Jebbson turned about again, “Plain as the teats on a cow, an’ don’ get me started on how that lil waif had m’boy, Darin, m’eldest, bewitched! I caught ‘em havin’ a roll in the hay with that lil minx, that _whore_ tellin’ me wot I was ta do, threatenin’ me! An’ then there’s the singer! Ya’ve all seen how he swaggers ‘bout, smilin’ prettily at all the girls, makin’ us lock up our virgin daughters, eh? He’s a devil, if he’s anythin’ but we all know, don’ we? We all know wot goes on in that den o’ filth, wot de- _gust-_ tin’ things they’re doin’ in there! Two men, a grown woman an’ a lil girl, if a girl is wot she be but I have it that she’s some kind of nymph or elf child or changeling!”

The grumbles and murmurs grew to outraged curses and growls while the crowd was riled up, drinks sloshing about as a piece of parchment was called for.

“Here now, Mr. Hurdon, sir, do us all the great service o’ writin’ up our petition, eh?” Jebbson patted Hurdon on the shoulder and smiled in a most unpleasant way, “See, lawman? We’re not gonna get our torches and pitchforks, we can be civilized, show those freaks an’ mutants that humans are the superior, level-headed ones, eh?”

Hurdon said nothing and his pen started to scratch it out, “ . . . You are a vile man, Jebbson but it is my job so . . . “

As this was going on, no one noticed a boy, tall for his age with short ginger hair and watery eyes, backing out the open door and running down the street.

* * *

“What’s happening?” Ciri asked, looking around, the joy and excitement of the presents sucked out of the room as the adults regarded each other.

“Ciri, go-” Geralt started.

“No.” Yennefer said firmly, “No, she needs to know what’s going on as much as we do, no more secrets. Our lives depend on it.” She turned to Ciri, “Something very dark and powerful is sitting outside a magical barrier I erected when we moved here. I don’t know what they are or where they are coming from but they attacked the barrier and are trying to get in.”

“I’m sorry, but _what_ barrier?” Jaskier frowned.

Geralt was about to launch, once more, into an explanation when there was loud, frantic knocking on the door. He got up and grabbed the handle, wrenching it open and stepping aside as Darin Jebbson tumbled in, the boy recovered and quickly stood up, looking at each of them then he looked at Ciri and his throat jumped, chest stuttering slightly. He quickly turned to Geralt as the Witcher shut the door again, “M-Mr. Geralt, ya gotta pack yer things an’ go! M’Father is r-rilin’ up the town against ya! They’re in the tavern havin’ a p- . . . a pet- . . . a pet-something written up ta have the lot o’ ya run outta town!”

“A petition?” Jaskier supplied helpfully.

“Y-Yeh, that!” Darin tore his cap off his head and wrung it between his hands until it threatened to rip, his eyes started to overfill and spill down his face, “I-I dare not repeat some’a the things he said ‘bout ya . . . but ya should all go b’fore they get the names an’ have the constable kick ya out!”

Yennefer and Geralt exchanged looks that bordered on fearful, Yennefer for what she’d just seen in the woods and Geralt for still being sore and tired and for what Yen had seen in the woods. The sorceress turned to Geralt, “What do we do?”

“ . . . there’s only two places I can think to go . . . “ He murmured, “Kaer Morhen is going to be inaccessible once the snows start in so that leaves-”

“Don’t you dare say-” Yennefer started.

“The Temple of Melitele.” Geralt grimaced, “Don’t start.”

“Great, lovely, I’m sure Nenneke will just _love_ to see me!” She snapped.

Jaskier waved a hand, “Um, hello, Nenneke is _not_ fond of me either, remember? I’m the drunken lout?”

“She didn’t mean that. Besides, it’s where I got the prophecy- no, Jask, _later_ alright? _Later_!” Geralt rolled his eyes then blinked when he noticed Darin and Ciri standing off to the side, Ciri had her hand on Darin’s shoulder while the boy was sobbing, wiping at his eyes with the rough sleeve of his jacket and he kept refusing to answer her by shaking his head emphatically, “We . . . should figure out how we’re getting out of here.”

“Portal out? I admit I’m not very keen to leave everything behind but- . . . what choice do we have?” Yennefer looked around at the little life they’d built and she felt a little sad.

“I don’t know if you can transport all of us plus the horses and anything else we’d need.” Geralt muttered, still thinking as he watched Ciri lead Darin to a bench and have him sit down.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me, there were two _dozen_ of those things bumping against the barrier like flies on a window! If we do anything _but_ portal, we’re going to be overrun!”

“Not if we take the stone with us!” Geralt said suddenly, “The stone for the barrier, can you make the area smaller? It would just have to cover us while we travel.”

Yennefer frowned in thought, her eyebrows coming together then she nodded, “I can do that, but we would have to act quickly or the spell might fall apart, I’ll need cover while I try to get it to work.”

“We could leave through the pass, we’d have to go through the forest but after some way there’s a small trail that leads through the mountains instead of around them, it would be the fastest route, just not the safest and if we’re trying to make good time, I doubt we’ll be dicking around much.” Geralt started making lists in his head of what they’d need and how to transport it, “ . . . we only have the two horses . . . “

“I can run and buy two more,” Jaskier said quickly, anxious to be useful as the stress was starting to get to him, “We have plenty thanks to my earnings.”

“Hurry and do that then,” Yennefer gestured to the door, “We’ll start preparing things here.”

Jaskier nodded and scooped up his purse, heading for the door, “I’ll be right back.”

Ciri hurried over to Geralt, tugging his arm, “Geralt, what’s going on? I don’t understand half of what Darin’s going on about and the rest is stupid. They can’t just put a bunch of names on a paper and tell us to leave our house, can they?”

Geralt grimaced, “ . . . law does dictate them some rights along those lines . . . “

“But we live here! This is our home!” Ciri blinked rapidly, looking at Yennefer then Geralt, “They can’t just make us leave!”

“Cirilla,” Yennefer said gently, holding out her hand, “Come with me and help me get things ready, I’ll explain what I can.”

This left Darin and Geralt alone, the Witcher glanced at the ginger boy who was still snuffling into his hands, “Are you going to sit there blubbering or help me?”

Darin flinched then quickly got to his feet, “Oh _shit,_ no, I shouldn’ even be here! ‘M s-sorry but I have ta go b’fore he catches me warnin’ ya!”

Geralt grabbed Darin’s arm before he could run back out the door, “Back door, come on, you can slip out along the wall of the pasture and no one will see you.”

Darin blinked at Geralt then nodded, moving to follow him, “‘s not true, none’a it is, the shit they say ‘bout ya an’ the others.”

“Watch your mouth,” Geralt muttered and stepped around a barrel half-full of some strong smelling roots, “Clearly whatever it was upset you, I’m sorry for that.”

“ . . . not like I got off wit’out m’name bein’ brought up neither.” Darin mumbled.

“What?” Geralt stopped and turned, “Your name?”

“Aye, mine, ‘Darin Jebbson’, m’name, the only thing I have,” Darin spat bitterly, looking at Geralt, “I was gonna do it, yanno? I was gonna say ‘sod it’ ta him an’ learn ta make swords, I was thinkin’ I could take off with one’a the dwarven merchants that pass by, follow ‘em back ta a real smith an’ go beg ‘em ta teach me their trade. _Feck_ , I might still do just that, since hearin’ him pop off like that!”

“Why?” Geralt crossed his arms.

Darin faltered then squared his shoulders, “Cuz I like yer daughter- no, I know she ain’ proper-like but s’all the same ta her, i’n’it? But ‘s true, I like her, a lot.” Darin’s eyes lowered and his cheeks flushed, “I wanted ta learn ta make her the best swords an’ armor . . . So that she’d be safe an’, aye, so she’d like me too. . . I could ask her ta be m’wife once we was grown . . . M’father, dog that he is, said some things . . . ‘bout Ciri . . . things that’re not true,” He looked up at Geralt, his eyes suddenly full of fear, “I-I never touched her, I swear! I’d _never_ do that an’ he- . . . he said I- . . . “ Darin covered his face with his dirty hands again and he shook slightly, then he took a breath and composed himself, “We’re wastin’ time, ain’ we?” 

Geralt held up a hand, he had all the time in the world to hear more excuses to finish off the smithy, but the boy was right, they didn’t have time, “I’m sorry, Darin, but she doesn’t-”

“Feel the same, I know.” Darin nodded, “I knew that a while ago. Doesn’ change m’feelin’s tho’, unfortunately fer me.” He paused sadly and shrugged, “But ‘m alright with just bein’ her pal, she’s special like that . . . “ He smiled, wiping snot off his face with his jacket sleeve, “Mebbe m’father will have an accident and croak. Mebbe when all this blows over, ya’ll come back an’ things can go back how they were!”

“Maybe.” Geralt nodded, but he was extremely doubtful they’d ever set foot in this village again.

“If . . . “ Darin leaned in, looking up at Geralt so seriously that it was almost comical, “If m’father were ta . . . ta have that accident as ya left town-”

“I don’t have time.” Geralt reminded him.

The boy sighed heavily and looked at Geralt with a tilt to his head, “Ya put on airs but ‘m pretty sure ya’d love fer him ta slip on his breakfast fork as much as I would.”

Geralt turned and opened the back door for Darin, “Until we meet again, Darin Jebbson.”

“Tha’s m’name, don’ wear it out, eh? Only get one.” Darin put his cap on his head and stopped in the doorway, tears welling up in his eyes and he turned to look at Geralt, “I just have one last thing ta say then I’ll go.”

Geralt nodded, glancing outside.

Darin took a deep breath, “I know now. I know the truth, ‘bout the stories an’ the tales an’ the _lies_ . . . cuz tha’s wot they is, _lies,_ things they say ‘bout Witchers, Sorceresses an’, _feck,_ bards too, I know they aren’ true now. Stories talk ‘bout heartless, murderous Witchers slaughterin’ men an’ beast alike without feelin’ an’ stealin’ children, icy sorceresses wit’ hollow eyes, whores an’ such . . . “ He sighed, his eyes squinted slightly, “But more wot I wanted ta say was that wot I thought was the reg’lar way a father is wit’ his kids, ya proved me wrong, sir. Ciri would kiss the ground any o’ ya walked on, not cuz she’s afraid’a ya or cuz ya demand it, but cuz she loves ya an’ ya love her. I’ll remember ya next time some drunk thinks he knows better’n me ‘bout ya an’ yer funny lil family. The Sorceress, the Witcher, the bard an’ a girl . . . I’ll pray ya have safe passage outta this shit-heap.” Then he turned to leave.

“Same for you, Darin.” Geralt murmured and closed the door after the boy.

* * *

“So . . . so what’s the prophecy then?” Ciri asked after things were laid out as best as anyone knew while they packed up their things.

“We don’t have it . . . I had the written copy but it was lost somewhere and I cannot recall where no matter how much Geralt yells at me about it.” Jaskier said a bit petulantly.

“Which is why we’re going to the temple,” Geralt explained, tugging on his boot, “I got the prophecy from a priestess there, can’t remember her name but Nenneke will know, she was there when I got it.”

“Hopefully she’ll be the one that gave the prophecy.” Yennefer said, double checking her travel bag and cursing it for being too small.

“What?” Jaskier, Ciri and Geralt asked at once.

Yennefer rolled her eyes, “Did she say the prophecy or was she just the one to hand you the paper with the prophecy on it?”

“Oh. Uh, she gave it to me.” Geralt grimaced, he hadn’t thought of that.

“Fabulous, Geralt, so she might not even _know_ it herself and we’re risking everything to go there. We can’t afford to use magic too large if I shrink the barrier, using portals might make it unstable or even break it so we have to go on foot! We’ll have a swarm of _those things_ following us all through the mountains!”

“We can move quickly, Jaskier got us more horses so-”

“One horse.” Jaskier said softly and they all turned to him, “I know, alright? I did my best but suddenly the market is a very hostile place even when you have coin.”

Geralt and Yennefer exchanged looks, the Witcher huffed irritably and rubbing his forehead, “They’re getting ready to-”

“Would seem so. Alright, we move before daybreak, if they’re petitioning their mayor or whatever, they won’t do anything tonight, not if they’re hoping the law will intervene on their behalf.” Yennefer sighed and glared out the window, “I hate that the most about human settlements.”

“I know.” Geralt said, “You do a million and two things for them and they still-”

“The question remains,” Jaskier cut in, glancing at Ciri who was silently watching them, her satchel already hanging off her shoulder, cloak under her arm and her new sword was belted to her back, “What are we taking, what are we leaving, and who’s carrying what?”

“I have my things.” Geralt stopped doing up the clasps of his studded doublet and pointed to Roach’s saddlebags which were packed with some dry rations, a spare set of clothes and boots, his small chest of vials, a bag of dried herbs, small smith’s kit and a bedroll.

“I’m so angry,” Yennefer hissed suddenly, “I spent so much time stocking this stupid store and so much money . . . I’ve also packed what I need.” She frowned at the small chest that contained some of the rarer objects from the store and her saddlebags were similarly packed like Geralt's with extra dry clothes, boots, and some personal effects.

“Hm, I suppose that leaves me . . . “ Jaskier stared at all the clothes he had and his lute, his eyes lingered on it for a moment or two. He had changed into more practical riding gear, very light leather armor that was dyed in bright colors (a gift from his most recent employers) and tall boots, he adjusted his cloak at his neck and huffed, picking his lute up and slinging the leather strap over his head, “Well, can’t leave this behind.”

“Pack some spare clothes,” Geralt said then he handed Jaskier something, “And here, in case.”

It was the two knives that Ciri had tried to slay a panther with, Jaskier stared at them then nodded glumly, “Hoped these would always just stay in their case . . . “

“Don’t worry, Jask, I’ll show you how to use them.” Ciri said, taking his hand after he belted the knives on.

Jask snorted, “Show me to use them? Psh, if anything, I’m cowering behind you three and hoping for the best!”

“I’ll protect you.” Ciri said firmly, glancing at her shoulder where the hilt of her sword poked out, it was a bit heavier than a wooden one but she kept her posture correct.

There was a pause as they all looked at each other, each dressed to flee with satchels, bags, and cloaks at the ready. Ciri reached over and took Yennefer’s hand with her spare then looked at Geralt, her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. 

The Witcher squatted down to look her in the eyes, “I’m putting you with Jask. Yen and I both need free movement if we’re attacked, I expect you to remember that this is serious, that we aren’t playing a game and that if I tell you to spur that fucking horse and ride it to the end of the world without looking back no matter what you see or hear, you will do it. Do you understand?”

Ciri was silent for a moment then she let go of Yen and Jask to wrap herself tightly around Geralt, feeling his thick arms cradle her against his body, her voice quavered a bit when she spoke next and Geralt could hear her heart racing, “I understand . . . Papa.”

Geralt squeezed her tighter, pressing his face into her soft hair and breathing in, “If we get separated, Jask knows where to go and he knows everyone, he can get you somewhere safe. Then Yen and I will come find you.”

They stood up and once more looked at each other in the tense stillness until Yennefer spoke up, “Let’s go get the barrier stone. Jask, you and Ciri go and wait in the stables for us, if you hear yelling, ride like hell itself is opening behind you.”

Jaskier, who had been silent and unmoving through the instructions, nodded and then put his lute back on the bed, his fingertips stroking slowly over the polished ivory wood. He looked tearfully at Geralt, “Faster without it.”

“I’ll have a new one made for you.” Geralt promised quickly, “I’ll commission elves to make it if I have to.”

This seemed to satisfy the bard but his lip still quivered as he took Ciri’s hand and lead her downstairs.

* * *

“Fuck.” Geralt murmured, his pupils expanding in the growing darkness, “I can sense them.”

Yennefer didn’t look up from where she was kneeling by the barrier stone, her face hard with concentration, fingers twitching slightly and her lips moved silently.

“You weren’t kidding.” Geralt slowly pulled his silver sword out of its sheath and his hands readied the _Igni_ sign, spectres and wraiths hated fire, so he was hoping whatever these things were, they also hated it.

“Mm.” Yennefer slowly picked up the stone and the air rippled.

The swarm of skull-ghosts bobbed a bit more frantically, swooping too close for comfort so that when Geralt swung at one that still had a patch of dark hair clinging to the crown and it exploded in a shower of bone-shards and smoke, “Yen-?”

“Just a moment!” Yennefer hissed, the stone shook in her hands and there was static energy all around, the barrier was shrinking.

The skulls became agitated and darted about the trees, circling closer then shooting away just out of the reach of Geralt’s sword. The Witcher made the sign and a short wave of flames spread before him, making the skulls skitter back several paces, “We’re running _out_ of moments, Yennefer!” He shouted as one of the skulls dared to fly close to him, it slammed into something just short of Geralt’s face and almost fell to the snow in what can only be described as shock before it flew back to its fellows.

“I got it!” Yennefer shouted back, her hands weren’t shaking but the stone was shivering slightly as she slowly began to carry it back out of the ring of aspens.

“Good, let’s get Jaskier and Ciri and get the fuck out of here.” Geralt said then he froze, his yellow eyes focusing on where the skulls had been a moment before. 

It was a dog, or at least, it _might_ have been something canine back when it had flesh and skin on its bones but now there stood the rotting skeleton of a hound, its head cocked to the side as sightless sockets focused on the stone. It’s yellowed fangs ringed a slack-jawed mouth where the remnants of a blackened tongue could be seen. Yennefer stopped as well and both of them stared at the dog that slowly backed up a few paces then turned and loped off into the forest. 

Geralt and Yennefer exchanged looks, the sorceress nodded, “Time to go.”

* * *

Jaskier held tightly onto Ciri as they sat up on the chestnut gelding he’d gotten, his other hand was holding Roach and Aderon’s reins, the bard licked his lips as he tensely waited, “What should we call the new horse?”

Ciri looked up at Jaskier, her fingers digging into the sleeve of his jacket, “I don’t know, did you meet any pretty knights at the party?”

Jaskier tilted his head one way then the other, “Hmm, there was a rather charming boy from the Isles, Phillip, does the horse look like a ‘Phillip’?”

“Phil for short.” Ciri leaned forward, patting Phil's neck, “He’ll have to keep up with Roach and Aderon, those two have seen some things.”

“Haven’t we all.” Jaskier murmured as he saw Geralt throw up a signal and he urged all three horses toward the forest edge, “You know the plan?”

“If anything happens, I keep riding to the next town for help but I stay put.” Ciri said softly, leaning back into Jaskier.

“That’s my girl.” Jaskier whispered, he rode alongside Yennefer and Geralt, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, time to go.” Yennefer carefully wrapped the stone in a sheepskin and lashed it to the back of her saddle.

Geralt pulled himself onto Roach and stared at Jaskier and Ciri, he reached over and adjusted the clasp of Jaskier’s heavy riding cloak, “Stay close. I think something might start to follow us.”

Jaskier leaned over and kissed Geralt, “We’ll keep up.”

Geralt put a hand behind Jaskier’s neck and held their foreheads together, blue eyes met yellow, “Keep up and keep her safe.”

Jaskier snorted, "I think she's the one that'll be keeping _me_ safe."

They started toward the forest just as something was happening behind them, Jaskier turned around then made a noise of alarm, “Well, no going back now!”

Geralt turned and his scowl deepened, “Suppose the petition didn’t take?”

Yennefer didn’t bother to turn back around, she knew already what they were looking back on as the store went up in flames, “That was my doing, actually, I wouldn’t want those simpletons looting anything.”

“My lute . . . “ Jaskier whispered, his eyes welling up.

“I’ll get you another one, don't worry, my dandelion.” Geralt muttered, glancing around the trees, it was getting dark, they had to keep going.

* * *

The pass was difficult but not impossible once they made it through the trees but the sun was already dropping behind the mountains by the time the horses had picked their way to the trail. Geralt’s pupils widened as the growing darkness made seeing very difficult, he glanced back behind him at Jaskier and Ciri on Phillip and then behind them was Yennefer on Aderon with the barrier stone, “If we keep riding for a few more hours there should be a hunting lodge we can get a room at, I wouldn’t suggest we keep on too far in the dark.”

“You sure we can stop?” Jaskier adjusted Ciri in his lap, her head tucked against his shoulder.

“We’ll have to, the horses are getting tired, they’ve been up to their knees in snow and I can smell more on the way.”

“You can smell snow?” Jaskier’s eyebrow rose.

“Quiet.” Geralt held a hand up, looking around and he could see them moving between the trees, then there was a soft crunching sound and suddenly larger forms stepped out from behind the trees. 

It was a horse and rider only the horse was just a skeleton and the rider was a humanoid, or at least what was left of one, draped in black shrouds and wearing tarnished gold armor, a massive claymore in one hand and the reins of its mount in the other. The head was covered in a black hood with a bent golden crown and the face was a death mask of a young man, the eyes were punched through with a strange red glow shining through the mask and the bottom half was broken off showing a rotted jaw and two rows of brown teeth and a blackened tongue.

The trio froze, staring at the mounted spectre as it stared at them, more of the shadow-heads came into view along with six of the skeleton-hounds. Jaskier trembled and looked about, “G-Geralt?”

Geralt felt a chill sink deep into his bones, he clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on his reins, “Run.”

The ghost lifted its sword.

“RUN!” Geralt roared, turning Roach and spurring her to leap up the path.

Jaskier kicked Phillip, bending low in the saddle as Yennefer’s horse shot forward. There was an unholy shriek behind them and the sound of dogs barking and horse hooves was right behind them. The shadow-heads swirled around them trying to find a spot in the barrier and they actually made a sound now. It was an eerie whistling call, low and sonorous, the sound caused a shard of ice to stab into the bard’s chest, he breathed in sharply and his eyes narrowed. Magic, they were doing some kind of magic! The bard breathed in again, “ _Fuck!_ ” He drew a knife and swung it in time to catch a skull before it bounced off the barrier but it got too close, “Looks like we won’t be stopping any time soon!”

Ciri blinked awake then saw the skull and cried out in fear, “What-?”

Jaskier adjusted his grip on her and grunted, grabbing the reins again before they dropped, “Morning, how do you like your undead, m’lady? Medium well?”

“Um, _dead_?” Ciri glanced around, her eyes widened, “What’s going on?”

Jaskier didn’t answer then looked down at her, “I don’t suppose now you’d like to explode a few skulls?”

“I-I don’t know if I can!” Ciri said uncertainly.

“No pressure!” Jaskier shouted, sheathing his knife and urging the horse faster to keep up with Yennefer, the poor horse who probably had hoped it would just be pulling a cart or some such occupation instead of being chased by monsters, grunted and snorted.

Ciri shifted around, “Here, hold my waist!”

“Wait what are you-” Jaskier grunted as Ciri used him as a support to turn and kneel in the saddle.

Ciri took a slow deep breath, then she opened her eyes but instead of being able to focus her power, her eyes locked with the undead rider, the red glow of the death mask’s eyeholes seemed to bore in her soul and she could hear it.

_You . . . you are what we seek . . . throw yourself from the horse . . . and we will spare the Trio . . ._

Ciri blinked, her mouth hanging open slightly, “ . . . who are you?”

Jaskier grit his teeth, “What?”

A sinister laugh filled her head, _The inevitable . . . your Destiny . . . Do as I say and your friends will live._

Ciri’s hands gripped Jaskier’s shoulders, _Fuck you!_

A laugh again, this time harsh, _You will fall to us, make no mistake . . . but they will die . . ._

_Not likely, you don’t know who they are!_

The rider was right along them now, his undead horse’s hooves pounding along the trail as they passed a lodge with the lights on and a drunk man pissing on the signpost. It looked at Ciri and Jaskier. The bard yelped and used the reins to urge the horse faster. 

“Geralt, Yen, I don’t think this is working!” The bard shouted.

Geralt turned and shouted wordlessly, he made the sign for _Igni_ and Yennefer also threw a spell back. The rider threw up the sword and one of the spells bounced off uselessly but Yennefer’s made the horse stagger and almost topple over before stopping.

Ciri stuck her tongue out at the undead rider, _Bugger off, dead-ass!_

The rider’s horse reared and it shrieked horribly, **_You will fall, Dove of the Morning, the Court of the Dead shall ride again and the GuardianTrio will burn in the fires of destruction and we shall trample their ashes under the feet of the Endless!_ **

Ciri watched as the rider became smaller then disappeared, she slowly sat back down and hugged Jaskier as they flew down the mountain pass. 

* * *

The fire burned merrily in the small, hastily made camp, completely the opposite of the general mood of those gathered warming themselves. Yenn murmured over the barrier stone for some time before she was satisfied that it was once more strengthened before she joined them, “Well, that was invigorating.”

“What was that thing? A wraith?” Jaskier asked softly, staring into the fires while he held Ciri wrapped in his cloak.

“A lich.” Geralt murmured, “Cursed, undead kings and princes . . . I didn’t know there were still some around given how taboo necromancy is . . . “

“Necromancy is involved in their making?” Yennefer asked, “I admit I am not so well-read in those kinds of arts given their . . . disgusting outcomes.”

“It’s a lot like reanimating a corpse only that it isn’t a servant or mindless ghoul, it’s a powerful, magical being that can command other undead, but the rituals needed to even make a lich takes months to prepare and I was under the impression that there weren’t any liches left.”

“Is this to do with the prophecy and whatnot?” Jaskier asked softly.

“I don’t know but I won’t rule it out.” Geralt murmured.

“It spoke to me.”

The three adults looked at Ciri who they had assumed was sleeping again, Yennefer leaned forward, “Oh?”

“In my head.” Ciri sat forward, “It said a load of shit about destiny and inevitable stuff but it called me the dove of something and mentioned a Court, a Trio and the Endless.”

Geralt furrowed his brow, “ . . . Some of that sounds familiar.”

“Wait,” Jaskier said softly, holding up a finger, “Wait, I remember part of the thing! I remember a part about three birds and death with a face. Do you remember, Geralt?”

“Not much.” The Witcher scanned the surrounding mountains and scraggly trees, still and eerie.

“We should try to sleep,” Yennefer slowly stood up, “I’ll get the horses some water.”

“It’s cold.” Ciri murmured, scooting back into Jaskier, “suppose I should start getting used to roughing it, huh?”

“Starting to understand why I come off as spoiled whenever we’re in town, are we?” Jaskier reached behind them and undid his bedroll, scooting back and curling on his side with Ciri snuggling into him.

“It’s nice just having a _bed_ most nights.” Geralt murmured, drawing his silver sword and kneeling by the fire with a pile of kindling.

Yennefer set up next to Jaskier, snuggling up behind Ciri, “This is the part that I despise about traveling the most. No bath, no bed, and no hot meal.”

“Hmm.” Ciri closed her eyes, but she could still see the lich’s glowing red eyes, hear his rasping, hissing voice in her head. She shivered and pushed her face deeper into Jaskier’s chest, his heartbeat comforting her enough so she could fall asleep.

* * *

The snow crunched under their feet as they picked their way off the trail to the main road, Yennefer breathed out and squinted as the sun reflected off the snow, “Alright, so we’ll head West toward Vizima, get to the Temple, find out about this prophecy and go from there.”

“Sounds good.” Geralt muttered, looking up at the sky, “Weather should hold.”

“And we can’t just portal?” Jaskier asked, shielding his eyes with a hand.

“No, no more big spells, especially if we’re being followed by a lich, they can sense large amounts of magic.” Yennefer muttered, “We’ll have to go on foot.”

“Lovely.” Ciri grumbled, adjusting in the saddle, “Hopefully my backside won’t have fallen off by then.”

“Indeed.” Jaskier agreed glumly.

Geralt found himself smiling slightly, they’d just burned their home, fled town, raced through the mountains with an undead king hot on their heels screaming about death and destruction and the girl and bard’s main concern was how comfortable their saddle was. He reached over as he rode by and gave Jaskier’s ass a smack, eliciting a squeal from him, “Feels fine to me.” 


End file.
